


Defcon… Which Is The Worst One Again?

by iola17



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Banter, Bugs & Insects, Committed Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Phobias, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 14:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iola17/pseuds/iola17
Summary: There’s a moth in the store. David reacts about as well as you’d expect. Fortunately Patrick is there to take charge of this emergency.





	Defcon… Which Is The Worst One Again?

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into writing a Schitt's Creek story although I've been lurking around the fandom for a while enjoying the amazing talent and content. This is basically 2000+ words of no plot but boys being soft and in love that snuck into my head in the middle of the night. Been a few years since I've written anything but something about these two has captured my soul and helped me remember how much I used to enjoy writing.
> 
> Rated as T due to language, although all words they use in the show anyway
> 
> First time posting on AO3 so hoping I've used the tagging system correctly!

If forced, David is not too proud to admit that the strangled, high-pitched squeal that comes out of his mouth is perhaps not the most dignified noise he's ever made. Fortunately business hours are over, he's restocking the moisturiser ready for tomorrow and there's no one around to hear the yelp. Well, almost...

“All okay?” Patrick emerges from the back room, his unruffled appearance at odds with his darting eyes scanning for injuries and the fact that David clearly heard the sound of a chair scraping back in there. From experience, David is well aware that you can't get from the chair out to the front that quickly without some form of haste. (There may have been a slow Tuesday afternoon and a straddling situation hastily aborted with the sound of Moira's summons and footsteps heading towards the back office. David just about managed to get to the cash register and block her view as Patrick rebuttoned his shirt. Sadly, after that Patrick started enforcing the 'No fooling around in the store' rule in earnest.)

David’s eyes shoot to the ceiling, where the minute fluttering casts tiny shadows on the light fitting. Patrick follows his gaze and his shoulders relax, satisfied now there isn’t any armed threat to life and limb or risk of broken bones from nasty tumbles.

“Ah.”

The moth that started all this is blissfully unaware of the two men staring up at in, one in faint amusement, the other in marrow-deep disgust.

David suppresses a full body shudder at the memory of the wings that brushed against the back of his hand as he straightened the display, rubbing vigorously at the patch of surely-infectious-disease-contaminated skin with the other hand. His lip curls as the winged hell-spawn butts against the bulb once more. Maybe he can get to his hand sanitiser from where it lies next to the register? But then, he’d have to walk underneath the moth...

Just as he’s weighing up the pitfalls of hand amputation versus the risk of needing to shave his head should the moth fall into it, Patrick is at his side, pressing the tiny, clear bottle into his palm.

“Here. This is probably better than trying to scrape off a layer of skin.”

David feels able to remove his gaze from the moth for the 0.75 seconds it takes to give his fiancé a grateful look before returning his attention to the ceiling before the creature takes advantage of his distraction to divebomb him.

Out of the corner of his eye Patrick folds his arms over his chest and his chin tilts up as he, too, looks at the intruder. He’s standing close enough that David can smell the peppercorn bodywash he favours and the fresh cotton scent of his laundry detergent. Underneath it all is the faint, natural aroma of Patrick’s skin. Something outdoorsy that David isn’t quite able to pin down but which tastes sharp and heady against his tongue whenever David kisses his future husband’s pulse points.

One-handed, David flips open the lid to his hand sanitiser and squirts probably three or four times more than strictly necessary onto the offending patch of skin, only feeling marginally calmer when he’s rubbed it in thoroughly enough to dispel the itching sensation.

But the underlying problem remains, still cheerfully circling the bulb and unaware of the prickling discomfort covering every inch of David’s body.

“How did it even get inside? Who even let it in?”

“I don’t think this was some kind of scheme to sabotage the business, David. Sometimes they just get in.” Patrick uncrosses his arms to wrap one around the back of David’s body and squeeze his opposite shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll get the ladder and get rid of it.”

A kind offer but… “Mm… It’s too late. Damage has been done. At this point there’s maybe an 89% chance it has already selected me for its next victim and I’m going to wake up tonight with it and its demonic friends swarming all over me. This place needs to be boarded up and we need to move.”

A small laugh from Patrick spreads warmth throughout David’s chest despite the severity of the situation. God, he gets to hear that joyful exhale for the rest of his life. He intends to be the _reason _for Patrick making that happy sound for the rest of his life. Patrick's laugh feels different, somehow, from all the shit that came before. All those times when the laughter of others caused a hot, squirming feeling in his stomach but he couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Finally, with Patrick, he realises it’s because he’s not the butt of the joke anymore.

Patrick squeezes David’s shoulder again to bring them closer and press their sides together. Like he can’t get near enough and isn’t that an intoxicating thought?

“David, as tempting as the prospect of uprooting our growing business from the main street in town where it’s gained a strong footing is, the business real estate opportunities in Schitt’s Creek- “

“Oh, no. I meant like, out-of-state move. Maybe we can revisit the shell of the store in the wake of the nuclear apocalypse and see if that thing has died along with everything else on Earth. Then pick up where we were selling to the super-humans that remain.”

“Oh, okay. Just so long as we aren't being too reactionary about this.”

David’s still looking at the winged horror fluttering around the light so he can’t actually see Patrick’s fond smile but after all this time he can hear it in his voice. The David of years gone by would have started to spiral at the teasing words but with Patrick it feels safer. Affectionate rather than dismissive or cruel. David has never been made to feel that his thoughts and emotions, although sometimes different from Patrick’s own, are viewed as less valid by the shorter man.

One more shoulder pat and Patrick’s gone before David is quite ready to lose his warmth, heading off towards back of the store where the stepladder is resting against the shelves.

“Are you going you kill it?”

“Mm,” Patrick hums. “No. Thought about it but wasn’t sure how squashed insect smear would blend with the ‘sand and stone colour palette.’ I can just move it outside.”

“Is this where you reveal another of your hidden talents to me? Like the guitar thing but bug-whisperer?”

Another amused half-laugh.

“No. Although that would make it easier to protect you from the swarm apparently coming to pay us a visit later tonight.” He grabs one of the glass candle holders from the shelves on the way past and sets up the ladder underneath the light. “I’ll use this.” Once the ladder is steadied, he places the candle holder on the top step.

“Um. That’s our stock and we will need to destroy it after this so you’re basically condoning throwing profit away which…” He squints at Patrick. “Do moths have mind control powers?”

Patrick rests his hand against the ladder and shrugs. “I could go into the back office and get one of the cups we drink out of. Although mine has tea in it at the moment which just leaves yours. We could scrub it out after but it would always be the ‘moth mug.’ Entirely up to you.” Patrick has that semi-infuriating, semi-adorable half-smile on his face that somehow simultaneously churns up in David both tender devotion and the deep desire to drag Patrick towards the nearest surface as he tilts his head, waiting for David’s response.

“… Continue.”

Patrick’s smile stretches into a full-blown grin and he seizes one of the coupons Twyla left for the café on the counter earlier in the day. Very much not on-brand for the store but she had just looked so hopeful and David had kind of developed a soft spot for her around the time she actually had brought him a bowl of hollandaise sauce when his dad was hungover. With a full set of cutlery and a straw in her hand. Then earnestly explained that she wasn’t sure what utensil people used to eat sauce by itself but if David told her she’d remember for the next time he wanted a bowl of sauce.

Besides, he reasoned he could always throw them out at the end of the day and claim that a large coach party had taken them all if she questioned it. At this moment, however, David can’t help but be grateful for the eye-wateringly vibrant pieces of orange paper, no matter how much they remind him of the vest Alexis had to wear for community service.

Ew.

Patrick folds the A4 sheet in half (Apparently Twyla also could not work out how to make her stepbrother’s girlfriend’s half-sister’s laptop print more than one voucher a page so the whole coupon is just the words ‘Half-off seafood platter Sunday-Thursday. Free round of drinks with every Mozzarella dipper starter!’ in the centre of a massive piece of paper.) and turns towards the ladder again.

David steps back and glances down from the moth to drink in the sight of his fiancé taking purposeful strides across their store, head down as he folds a sharp crease into the sheet to quarter it. His shirt fits snugly over his biceps and over the last couple of years David has found a new appreciation for the mid-range denim he once scoffed at. Patrick walks like a man on a mission and it does delicious things low in David’s stomach, remembering times Patrick has had this single-minded focus trained on him.

He pulls his lips between his teeth as Patrick looks up. Something in his eyes must tip Patrick off to the decidedly not moth-related turn David’s thoughts have taken if the slow, slightly depraved smirk that spreads across his face in response is any indication.

“Or, if you’re not bothered about the moth anymore we could just close up and head home?”

Only the thought of coming back tomorrow and being forced to live with the knowledge forevermore that there is a flying nightmare lurking in the dark corners stops David grabbing Patrick’s hand and pulling him out the door. First things first.

“Keep it in your pants, Brewer. I’m marrying you primarily for your insect-removing skills so…” David circles his hand in a ‘get-on-with-it’ motion and earns another amused and affectionate glance.

“Yes, sir.” Patrick salutes. He actually fucking salutes and, oh, they'll be exploring that in the near future.

Right now Patrick is climbing the ladder and the moth, which has finally stopped bumping into the bulb and has settled on the ceiling within the circle of light, is crawling towards the hanging cable the lamp is suspended from. Scooping up the candle holder, Patrick traps the insect in one smooth move and slides the coupon underneath the glass. Something so simple shouldn’t look so attractive but David always did like a man who knew what he was doing. Plus the fact that he’s abandoned his work in the back office to capture a moth just to make _David_ happy when Patrick wouldn’t even have registered the creature were he by himself is just…

Climbing down with the entrapped insect, Patrick walks over to the door and flings it out into the street. Closing the door behind him he turns back to meet David’s easy smile with one of his own.

“Problem solved and, hey! No fleeing the state necessary.”

He sets the candle holder and voucher down on the central display table as he approaches and does not stop until he is close enough to wrap his arms around David’s waist. David’s arms instinctively find their way to Patrick’s shoulders and the moment they are chest to chest David feels the tension fading from his shoulders.

“Crisis averted,” David agrees and nods over Patrick’s shoulder. “But I’m not kidding about that candle holder. It needs to be incinerated.”

“It just needs washing.” Patrick leans in for a kiss but David is not quite ready to end this game yet. He pulls his head back a little and tries to ignore the disappointed crease that appears in Patrick’s brow.

“No. It will never be the same, we have to throw it out.” He’s trying to keep the grin in but from the amused glint in Patrick’s eye he’s well-aware that he is failing. But when Patrick leans in to run his nose along the side of David’s neck it strangely doesn’t feel much like failure.

“No-one’s going to know the difference, David.” Patrick’s mouth is close enough to David’s skin that his lips brush David’s skin as he speaks.

“Okay, so which of our neighbours do you want to inflict this curse on?”

Patrick smiles into his neck as soon as the word ‘neighbour’ exits David’s mouth and David knows it’s because Patrick loves any reminder of how comfortable David now feels in Schitt’s Creek. How well he’s finally settled into this place he was forced into and that they’re now making into their home together.

“Fine. Wouldn’t want to subject anyone to a midnight moth army bent on revenge.” Patrick finally stops teasing with his barely-brushing lips and starts trailing kisses up the muscle of David’s neck and to the spot behind his earlobe that causes Goose bumps to erupt over his whole body. When he shivers, he can feel Patrick’s smirk against the side of his face.

David clears his throat and tries to focus. “Not even Ronnie? Or Bob? I heard he wants to do beat poetry again on our next Open Mic.”

“That’s a problem for another time but can we stop talking about Bob right now?” Finally Patrick pulls away from David’s neck and this time David lets him press their mouths together.

He’d had enough of talking for a while anyway.


End file.
